Take Me Home
by unrelatedtalking
Summary: They say life is a story and how it ends depends on the choices we make. I hadn't made many choices before I was uprooted from my home in Virginia and transported into my favourite book. Unfortunately, it just so happened that said book contained more death than life and I was being forced to kill for my own. As I continued my fight for survival, would I ever figure out a way home?
1. Chapter One - Up and Away

**Welcome to my fabulous new story! I'm really feeling it guys. I'm hoping that I'll like my protag enough to keep writing her. I also hope she'll be strong, there're too many weak protag's about. Like, seriously? Grow some balls, girl! Fight back!**

**Then again, my characters tend to write themselves. So we'll see. Have fun!**

* * *

_Only the young die good._

_Chapter One_

* * *

I closed the book, breathing in the scent of pure adventure and smiling against the worn pages. I threw the 'Hunger Games' novel on the nightstand next to my bed and leaned back on the soft pillows, digesting what I had just read.

I always had loved days like this, days spent reading and eating, moving only to grab a bag of chips or shower. It made me feel calm. Rested, almost. Like I could face the entire universe. It was a good feeling.

I had just finished rereading the book for a third time. It was definitely one of my favourites, full of love and loss, hate and anger. The rest of the series hadn't came out yet and I was eagerly awaiting the next installment of the gripping trilogy.

Rue's death almost always made me blubber like a baby. I mean, she was only twelve! Having to fight to the death like that.. I definitely _respected _Katniss for placing the flowers in her wound and hair. Still, she wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. Why would she leave Rue by herself anyway? It was a fight to the death, for crying out loud!

I didn't particularly like her, the protagonist; she was emotionless, rude and a complete bitch at times. But I could understand her. She had someone she would die for, someone who she would go through Hell and back for, just to see her special person live. So did I - my baby brother, James.

James had been born blind with a hole in his heart. My heart always ached when I thought that he would never be able to see anything - the colours, the beauty, the _magic _of the world. And his heart had made him weak enough as is. I loved him so much and I'd protect him with everything I had. Even my life.

For some reason, I had always had an affinity with the book. Almost like I could.. understand it? No. It was like I could feel every emotion like it was happening to me, like I had lived through something as terrifying and unjustified as that. But I hadn't.

I would hate to have to go through that, even if it _was_ fictitious. I mean, I was a strong girl - both physically and emotionally - but no one, no one, could go through that and not be at least a little bit broken. Even the Careers, who I vehemently hated, wouldn't be entirely there by the end of it.

And anyway, if someone actually, truly, enjoyed doing that, killing other people, then they'd very clearly be a psychopath. Which I wasn't, really. I knew that I wasn't as squeamish as some other girls my age but the thought of killing someone and liking it was beyond me.

I rolled my eyes. The Hunger Games were fictional, never would they happen in real life. A fantasy world made of death, a world that I was actually quite glad I didn't live in, despite my strange fascination with it.

I remembered the first day I picked up the book. Needless to say, I was hooked. The plot was amazing, even if the characters were a bit emotionless. I used to go to bed at night imagining what it'd be like, if I could be able to survive. Despite my obvious reluctance, I knew I would be able to kill if a time came where I absolutely needed to.

Then again, the Games weren't real. I found it hard to wrap my head around the thought of it actually happening. The world in which Katniss lived was an absolute train wreck. Despite it being my favourite series, I knew I probably wouldn't be able to survive it.

I sighed. Why was I even thinking about it? It wasn't real.

God, I didn't even know anymore. Maybe I was going crazy. The Hunger Games weren't real and they never would be. Never.

I closed my eyes. I was so sleep deprived; that was probably the reason behind my being so illogical. Only a few hours of sleep does that to a girl, I suppose. Creates a paranoia inside you.

Soon, I found myself drifting off, spiralling into darkness and dreaming meaningless dreams.

My life would never be the same.

* * *

I woke to the feeling of scratchy sheets against my cheek.

My first thought was, _Oh God, where am I?! This is not my house. This does not feel like my soft, warm bed in Virginia._

My second was, _I'm wearing a dress._

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. My second thought wasn't that maybe I could have been kidnapped, or hey, maybe I'd been date raped or something. Nope. My second thought was based on my_ attire._

Messed up priorities or what?

I shot upright, eyes darting around this strange place. Oh fuck. What if I _had _been kidnapped? Where was I?!

The room was plain grey with a mattress and a dresser in the corner. That was it. A small window shone a thin stream of light into the centre. Dust coated almost everything. I started to panic.

I crawled off the mattress and stood, hands flying to the thin nightgown wrapped around my body. I'd never really liked dresses, or nightgowns. They didn't really help when you had to run or sit or eat. They just got in the way. I lifted my hands to my face and sighed in relief. I still felt the same. Except..

Oh my God. _I__ have muscle?!_

I heard a screech outside my door. Banging noise rattled my ears and I moved to cover them.

"The Reaping's in half an hour, you ungrateful brat!" the person screamed. "Get dressed!"

What. The. Fuck.

This couldn't be happening. I refused to believe it.

_My name is Faith Zachary and I'm just having a really bad dream and any moment I'll wake up and please, please, please tell me I'm hallucinating._

I was in a serious state of denial.

Suddenly, I felt a searing pain rip through my head. Like, it felt like an explosion had gone off. Memories. Memories came rushing into my head as fast as lightening. And it was _painful. _Memories I was a hundred percent sure I hadn't had, yet.. I remembered them. It was like I was two people equalling the one person. The girl from this life was also called Faith Zachary. This girl also had a serious temper and the tendency to speak before thinking.

This girl was me.

But then again, she wasn't.

This girl had no remaining family members. This girl had a bubbly friend called Sarah and another called Callie. This girl lived in an orphanage and worked seven days a week in a forest, chopping wood for the Capitol. This girl lived in District Seven. I knew everything she, I, had been through. I knew the hardships this girl had faced.

But I had also lived through my own. I had my own memories, and friends, and family members. I had lived through tragedies of my own. I had a friend named a Mark and another called Kate, who were dating. I knew how to act in this life, I had lived it. I had lived two lives.

It was a strange feeling. Almost like I'd been jumping between both personas and then, finally, after fifteen years, they'd met. Like two twins who were split at seven and came together again at eighteen.

Today was the day of the Reaping. I was in the Hunger Games. It was all sickeningly, violently true. Every second of it. And I had, somehow, been transported into a book. And not just any book. A book that had the protagonist _fight_ to the _death _on _national televison._

It felt like a giant "fuck you!" from life. My parents had died right in front of me, I'd been tormented all through my school years, I discovered that the Hunger Games was real and now I'd been completely taken from my old life and thrust into a new one.

And still, it didn't make sense. Why was I even here? Like, _damn, _plot hole much? The memories were all there. Every single one. I was one person who had lived two lives and then all of a sudden, they came together to form a very confused me.

I didn't want the person to come again so I opted for the lesser of the two evils. I decided to get dressed for the Reaping.

Cautiously, I opened the dresser. I picked out the dress I had worn to every Reaping (well, according to the memories that had been forced into my head) and shoved it on. It was green. So were the shoes I slipped on.

I had never been one to care about my appearance, but even this was a bit too far. Dirt caked my body and nails. My hair was a greasy mess. I knew that only the younger ones got bathed regularly; us older orphans had to just suck it up.

When I was suitably dressed, I entered the kitchen table and sat at my usual space. It felt weird to call it that - my usual space. Like I'd been eating meals here for as long as I could remember. Which was true. But it didn't feel like it.

A woman with long, white hair dumped a pile of grey sludge in front of me. I recognized her as Mrs Falconer. I refrained from turning my nose up at it. That would only result in a beating later. Which, I realised, I'd had plenty of before. Curse my attraction to trouble.

"Eat," she demanded and I complied, giving her the evil stare all the while. It tasted disgusting, like slugs all mashed up together and put in a bowl for me to eat. I repressed the urge to vomit all over the table.

I felt my heart ache under my chest as I yearned for my aunt's home cooked meals. I wanted my baby brother, too, to come and sit on my lap and make me sing to him. I didn't know how long I'd be stuck here. Perhaps forever. I gulped nervously. Before I knew it, I'd eaten the rest of my 'breakfast'.

"Right," Mrs Falconer said. "Time to go."

I stood and made my way to the door. Opening it, a sharp blast of wind cut into my face and I yelped. It was raining. Again. I heard the squeals of children and crying of oarents as we trekked to the Square.

The crowd of us, all the orphaned kids, walked silently into our places. Suddenly, it hit me, harder than all the other times it had. I was walking in a foreign place with a foreign woman who wasn't actually all nice. And the biggest bomb?

I was in the Hunger Games. I was in a book. This was the Reaping.

I could get picked. I could _die._

I stood towards the back of the crowd and searched for Callie and Sarah, my friends from this life. Soon, I saw Sarah's fair hair and I waved her over. She barged past people and stood beside me. Callie soon turned up too, nose high in the air and blazing red hair in tangles on her shoulders.

"May the odds be ever in our favours, yeah?" Sarah whispered, gathering our hands. Callie nodded. She was always the 'strong-but-silent' type, I remembered. Sarah squeazed my hand.

"Let's just hope it's not anyone we know," Callie said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. I nodded.

"I agree. Especially not you two. Let's hope the odds _are _in our favours, today," I muttered. I felt a rush of love for these girls who I had met mere moments ago, and yet I had known my entire life.

The escort stood on stage. He was covered entirely in feathers. Literally. When they described it in the book, the Capitolites hadn't seemed half as bad as this. I'd imagined them all as replicas of Lady Gaga or Nicki Minaj. This - this was _hysterical._

He had feathers coming out of his cheeks! As in, surgically implanted! And if that wasn't bad enough, they were neon. Rainbow neon feathers. I placed a hand in front of my mouth and giggled quietly despite the somber mood. Wow.

Sarah had a tiny on her face. She nudged me with her shoulder and I held the smile from breaking out on my lips. Callie even had a small smirk painted on. The escort coughed.

The seriousness of the situation fell onto me like a tonne of bricks. On the one hand, I had watched every Reaping since the age of three and could name all the Victors by heart. On the other, I had never seen a serious injury, never mind death.

It was like a conflicting battle between two entities of the same body. Like, in the Percy Jackson series, where the Roman and Greek forms go all schizo.

It was kind of like that. Only I was more at peace. And it didn't hurt. And I wasn't a god.

I was still in a little bit of denial. I mean, it was impossible. Just mere hours ago, I was reading about it and now I was actually in it! It was crazy. I _felt _crazy.

The feather-guy placed his hand on the microphone. His voice was high pitched and squeaky, making me cringe and bite my lip.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Reaping of the 68th Hunger Games!" he said, looking absolutely delighted. Asshole. Didn't he know that kids died in the Game and he was there _smiling? _"We will now pick a young male and female tribute to represent Dicstrict Seven in a battle to the death!"

I swear you could hear crickets chirping. Feather-guy was not swayed, however.

"Ladies first," he grinned. He promptly took a little paper slip out of the goldfish bowl and licked his lips. Gross, much?

I felt my heart beat a thousand times per second. I was sweating. This was real, this was real. This was real. I could die.

It suddenly occured to me how sheltered we were in my other life. Because here? I could die and nobody would care because it happened every single fucking year. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips, hoping against hope that I could just go home.

"Faith Zachary!" My eyes shot open.

Well, _shit._


	2. Chapter Two - Can't Be Saved

**Second chapter! I updated fast xD Anyway, enjoy c; **

**(And by the way, the title of the story is nothing to do with the fact she's from Virginia. This isn't a song fic c; I just like the state of Virginia bc Annabeth's from there and "Take Me Home" seemed a suitable title considering xD)**

* * *

_There are three natural anesthetics: Sleep, fainting, and death._

_Chapter Two_

* * *

That day, I found out that nothing could have prepared me for my name being called.

Everything in my body became hot, then cold, then hot again. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes because gods this shouldn't be happening. People parted around me like I had a contagious disease and if they even touched me they'd be infected - except for Callie and Sarah; they pushed me forward and whispered words of comfort in my ear.

I wished it was a dream. I wished that I could just wake up and everything would be okay. But this was real and the sooner I got that through my head, the better. Despite my reasoning, I was frightened. Terrified. A death match wasn't exactly at the top of my bucket list.

Even with the cold fear sucking the life out of my heart, I was determined to seem strong. I was not going to die without a fight, my life snuffed out before I could utter any goodbyes. And I was certainly not going to be seen as weak.

My stiff legs started walking towards the stage. I felt pitying eyes stare at me, to which I glared back. I held my head high and walked faster, a look of pure loathing painted on my face. It was okay. It was all going to be just fine.

Feather-guy patted me on the back in sympathy and I flinched away from him. He shrugged and smiled, before announcing, "Now, for the boys!"

He dipped his hand in the bowl and peeled a slip out, "Koby Jensen!"

A small, brown haired boy started walking up weakly. He peeked behind his thick lashes and managed a small, miniscule smile. Feather-guy took our arms in his and raised them above his head.

"Here we have it. The tributes for District Seven, Koby Jensen and Faith Zachary!" he shouted. There were a few claps. Most people were staring at the ground in relief that they weren't picked. I couldn't blame them.

Feather-guy walked us to the Justice Building. Jensen and I were pushed into our respective rooms and made to wait for our visitors. I sat on the plush, velvet couch and fingered the softness of the fabric. It felt like how the White House or Buckingham Palace would be, had I ever visited them.

I didn't have to wait long before Sarah and Callie were allowed inside. The Peacekeeper warned us that we had three minutes to say our goodbyes.

Sarah lunged on me and started crying on my shoulder, "I can't believe you got picked. You gotta come home to us. Please."

"I guess the odds weren't in my favour today, huh?" I muttered, stroking her back. She leaned back and looked me in my face.

"You can do it, Callie and I have got your back. We'll try to get sponsor money for you!"

I smiled as she sat on the couch next to me and held my hand. Callie hugged me in her arms before looking me straight in the eye with stubbornness on her face.

"Listen, Faith. It's going to be hard. We know that, you know that. Nothing's going to change that. It's happening and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You've got to get your head in the game and win. We know you can do it, you really can.

"Put those muscles to good use. You can't afford to make petty mistakes. Use your intelligence, get rid of the Careers. And most of all? Stay alive. We'll be here every step of the way, Faith."

I grabbed them both and smashed them to me in a fierce hug. They were my best friends. I would miss them so much, more than I could ever imagine.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," I murmured.

"Bring us back some Capitol food," said Sarah with tears in her eyes.

"And a pretty dress," Callie smirked. I laughed and brushed my tears away.

"I love you both,"

"We know," said Callie, a soft look in her eyes. The Peacekeeper crashed into the room.

"Time's up."

"No! No way was that three minutes! Liar!" I latched onto my friends. I didn't want to let them go. The Peacekeeper dragged them from my arms and out the room. The door closed and I attacked it, banging my hands on the worn wood.

"Capitol asshole!" I screeched. "Rat! You lied! You said three minutes!"

My screams turned to sobs as I fell to the ground and beat the carpet with my fists. I let the tears fall down my cheeks and stain my dress. This was a huge mess.

I crawled over to the couch and sat in a foetal position. I wanted Kate and Mark here to say goodbye - the friends from my other life. Kate would have held my head in her lap while Mark would've cracked funny jokes to relieve the situation. I missed them.

I missed my Aunt and James, too. What I would've given just to see them one last time, because God knows if I'd ever see them again. I missed my parents.

I wondered if I was missing in my other life and my Aunt was worried about me. I wondered if they were looking for me right now, searching for my lost body. I wondered if there was another me in place of myself, living out my old life. It wasn't a comforting thought.

I wiped my eyes and made myself seem like I wasn't a total mess. I couldn't be seen as weak. I _wouldn't._

Soon enough, feather-guy escorted me to the train awaiting me in the station. Jensen and I were lugged aboard and told where our rooms were (mine was on the right, his the left (apparently, lunch was in ten minutes)).

My room was huge. The soft king-sized bed lay on a pedestal just waiting to be slept on. There was a huge dressing table and wardrobe with a huge amount of products on it.

I flicked through the contents of the wardrobe and found that most of the clothes were simple, cotton and lightweight.

It was so strange. These clothes were so different to the ones back home. This _place_ was so different to home. God, I just wanted to leave.

My dress didn't really have much value, so I chucked it on the floor and burrowed myself in some white slacks and black tank. I grabbed a hairtie from the table and tied my dark hair back in a ponytail. Satisfied, I walked to the dining car for my dinner.

At the table, feather-guy sat with a mirror in front of his face. An older man, who I recognized as Blight, stood and gave me a once over before sitting down yet again. A woman who must've been in her mid-thirties simply narrowed her eyes at me before continuing her food. Jensen was fidgeting with his hands on the tablecloth.

"We'll be entering the Capitol tomorrow. There, the Stylist will make you look less District-like!" feather-guy chirped happily. The woman rolled her eyes (I found that I couldn't place her in my mind). I felt anger spark in me. What was wrong with being from a District? I'd rather be from there than look like I've just broke the Crayola factory.

"Martha," she scowled, without offering us her hand. "And you're Koby and Faith."

I bit my tongue from snapping at her. I narrowed my eyes.

"Oh, a feisty one, you are, aren't you? Let's see how long it takes for them to break you."

"Martha," Blight warned. She rolled her eyes before taking a sip of her wine. _God, are all people here going to irritate me?_

"We, as Mentors, are here to guide you through the Games as best as possible. We'll give you advice; it's up to you whether you take it or not," said Blight.

"But you'll be as good as dead if you don't," Martha piped. "Remember, we've had experience. You've not."

Damn, wasn't she the optimist? Here I was going to go into the Hunger Games and she was spouting off sassy remarks like gifts on Christmas.

Blight shot her a look, "We'll be deciding which Mentor gets who. Whoever gets the short straw has Martha, the other gets me."

I met Jensen's eye. I could tell he didn't want Martha, just like I didn't. I rolled my eyes and grabbed for one of the straws. It was fairly short - I just hoped that Jensen's was shorter. He picked the other one.

Shit.

"I guess the odds certainly weren't in my favour this year," I said drily. Martha shot me a look of loathing. I started to eat my food, trying to eat as much as possible. It'd be good to store fat considering I'd probably be starving when I actually went into the Games.

I noticed Jensen was barely eating anything. I just knew he wouldn't last - he was too short, weak. I could tell he hadn't worked in the forest by his lack of muscles so he wasn't exactly gifted with the ability to control an axe. I decided not to get attached to him, especially when I knew for sure he'd die.

"After you're finished, meet me in the Living area. It'd be better to start quicker rather than later. After that, we'll watch the Reaping's and then you two'll toss and turn all night without getting any sleep," sneered Martha. What. A. Bitch.

By the end of my meal, I was so full I could barely walk the hallway to meet with Martha. She sat drinking an amber liquid from a small glass. She raised her eyebrows when I walked in.

"You finished fast,"

"I like food," I shrugged. She nodded and sipped the alcohol.

"Sit," I gritted my teeth and sat almost a meter away from her.

"I won't bite," she grinned, showing her sharp canines. She set the glass down. "Well, maybe I might."

She stood up and looked down at me from above, like a giant. She started pacing.

"Any skills?" she narrowed her eyes at me. I mirrored the action right back at her.

I was actually quite fortunate. The school in my old life was so much better than this one's. I mean, unless you wanted to learn about trees or the history of Panem, you were pretty much screwed. I came from a time where you learned loads from a variety of different places. I was definitely better educated than others in Panem, except maybe the Capitolites. Even then, who knew? Maybe they just learned how to surgically insert feathers into people's faces.

I felt lucky that I knew the stuff from this life, too. It was like somewhere in my brain, there was some sort of instinct telling me that I knew how to use an axe. I knew how to use my upper body strength to cut deep into hard substances, like wood. Or bone. I also knew how to throw it, given the axes were small enough. It was strange but exciting too.

I knew how to survive in this world and I could use logic like it was nobodies business. Combining that and some survival stuff from the weird shows I used to watch, I was pretty well off. I knew how to differentiate poisonous plants from safe ones, trees to sleep under, how to get water. What not to do while surviving in the wilderness with twenty-three other people out to kill you.

_I mean, who lights a fire at night when people are wanting you dead?_

I answered the question with honesty, "I'm smart. I can wield an axe quite well, so that's pretty much my weapon of choice. I know how to tell the difference between poisonous plants and whatnot. I'll need to work on snares, though. I don't know how to do that at all," I said.

She nodded in approval, "You have potential. I'd say you'll last to the final eight, at least."

I looked at her incredulously, and said cockily, "Final eight? I'm winning this thing!"

She grinned wolfishly, "That's what I like to hear."

"Any advice for me?"

"I got this from an old friend of mine; stay alive," she smirked when she saw my shocked expression. That was Haymitch Abernathy's phrase. Oh my God. I'd forgotten that I was in a book. I was only fifteen and it was the 68th Hunger Games.. I was older than Katniss! I could meet her!

That is - if I actually survived. Which, I was hoping to all gods I would.

Martha cocked her head at me, "We'll discuss some more later. For now, I'm tired. Go to your room."

"Whatever," I snapped. I shuffled down the corridor to my room before collapsing on the bed. Believe it or not, I was exhausted. I was both physically and emotionally drained. My eyes started to close and I let them, allowing the darkness to seep in and cover me with a comforting blanket.

For the first time in months, I dreamt of my parents.

* * *

_My father stands at the doorframe, letting light from the hallway enter my room. My mother holds his waist and looks at me worryingly; I'm only around seven or eight and the nightmares continue to haunt me. Nightmares with blood and gore and death. Nightmares that make me scream and cry._

_Nightmares that seem so very real._

_She parts from my dad and crouches by my bed. She takes my hand in her own and strokes my cheek. Her hands are soft. She smells of talcum and lavender; I love it. It is a comforting smell - the scent of pure and utter love._

_"It'll be okay, honey," she sooths my beating heart with her words. "Have faith. That's why I named you. You'll need a whole lot of faith in a few years, but it'll be okay. You'll survive."_

_"What do you mean, mommy?" I mumble tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I feel a droplet of water hit my hand. Is mommy.. crying?_

_"Mommy, what's wrong?" I ask. She shakes her head and sobs slightly._

_"I'm going to miss you so much, my child. I love you," she closes her eyes._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"To the clouds."_

_Daddy sits next to mommy on the floor. His gentle voice rocks me like a boat on the small waves of an ocean. He holds my other hand before addressing my mother._

_"It's not time. We have years before.." _

_"I know," she turns to me and wipes the tears away. "One day, you'll remember this, honey. They've implanted a chip in you. Once we leave, you'll forget this ever happened. When you reach the other world, you'll remember it in a dream. Just know that we love you - and you'll see us again. Very soon."_

_"Have faith, baby. Have faith."_

* * *

I opened my eyes and jumped up. I could hear a small knock on the other side of the door. I rubbed my tired eyes and yelled, "Come in!"

It was Jensen. He looked at me and frowned. He twiddled his fingers and took a deep breath. Jeez, I wasn't that scary, was I?

"Dinner's ready," he murmured, timidly. Poor Koby Jensen. He wouldn't last a day. I headed towards the dining car. I could smell the scent of rich foods from my room. I stumbled to the mirror opposite and studied my reflection.

Sweat covered my skin, a thin layer making my skin shine. Dirt covered my body and I made a mental note to take a shower after dinner. Meanwhile, I washed up as best I could in the sink.

I wondered about the dream. I was almost certain it was a memory, a memory that had been taken away. And something about a chip being implanted in me, too? It was all so confusing; I barely knew what was going on.

I hadn't dreamt about my parents in months, years even. Eventually, I had learned to suppress the memory of them. It hurt a whole lot less that way. I had moved on.

And now, they'd came back. Everything was wrong - this shouldn't even have been happening to me. The entire situation was a mess. What were my parents even talking about, I'd see them soon? That was obviously meant for future me, not baby me in the dream. Did that mean I'd die in the Arena? Or something else?

I continued to mull over my thoughts as I walked to the dining car. The lure of food was too much and I certainly wasn't going to skip dinner.

I sat down at the table and surveyed the food and drink scattered on silver platters. An Avox (or at least, that's who I presumed he was) took a spoon and dished me a creamy chicken thing and poured me some orange juice. It smelled heavenly and I tucked in. For a few short minutes, all that could be heard were the tinkle of cutlery on china and the soft murmurings of food being chewed.

"So," said Blight as he cleaned his mouth with a napkin. "Is the mentoring going along well?"

I shrugged. "We'll probably discuss more later."

He nodded. Martha rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, Blight. How about yours?"

She nodded her head in the direction of Jensen.

"Fine. After dinner, we'll watch the Reaping's. Take a look at the competition."

I grunted and continued to stuff myself with dinner. After the main meal, there was dessert; a beautiful chocolate fudge cake and cream. It tasted like heaven melting in my mouth.

When everyone was finished, we sat in the Living area, perched on the comfortable couch in front of the television. We were immediately greeted with, who I presumed to be, Claudius Templesmith's grinning face.

He almost immediately rattled in, talking about how he was surprised at the Reaping's this year and that we had to, 'wait and find out'. I decided that I would have to take note of my competition. Especially the Careers.

The Careers from One were total supermodels and they'd both volunteered. The girl, Shine, smirked and winked at the camera while blowing a couple of kisses. I immediately took a dislike to her; she was a total airhead. Not particularly dangerous, but annoying all the same

The guy was called Opal. He looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model, blonde hair and easy grin. But there was something hidden in his eyes that made me shudder, something quite mad. His easygoing facade could easily trick you into believing he was weak despite the clear muscles.

The girl from Two was tall and thin. Her eyes narrowed as she shot up to the stage like a cheetah, a cheetah pouncing for its next kill. The guy was kinda short and stocky, with small, piglike eyes and bulging muscles. I felt myself puke in my mouth a little bit. Their names were Amy and Bob (I know right - _Bob!_).

Three's tributes were wispy and tall, blonde hair like straw upon their pale faces. Four's volunteered like the rest of the Careers. They were tall, strong and had narrowed their eyes at the crowd. I gulped nervously and gripped the armrest tightly. Martha whistled.

"You got some competition there. They're definitely not going down without a fight. May as well call it quits now, girl, there's no way you're getting out of that Arena, except in a wooden box," Burning hot rage filled my gut, churning inside of me. I stood, clenched fists and all. How _dare _she?!

"Ever since I've gotten here, all you've been is a pessimistic bitch! You need to stop with this bullshit because if I'm going to die, I want my last few days filled with at least a small bit of hope, which you're not giving to me! I have confidence, I do, but you're tearing me down, bit by boring bit. Just stop!" I yelled, breathing heavily.

"Confidence gets you killed."

"I don't give two shits! Look at those Careers. Out of all of the sixty-seven Games that have been played, how many have been Careers that won? More than half! What are they? Confident! So I'm so sorry if I believe I can stay alive after being treated like a pig to slaughter!"

Martha remained silent, amber liquid in her hand once again. She was ignoring me! Well, she could just go fuck herself. I sat down and huffed, hands folded over my chest. Jensen squeaked as I plonked my butt on the cushion. I muttered an apology and turned to the screen. In our little.. tiff, we'd missed Reapings Five and Six. Great.

I watched carefully as my name was called out. I was surprised at how determined I had looked. Clenched fists, burning eyes, pursed lips. It looked like I was out to kill someone. Which, technically, I was. I stood on stage, head held high like I didn't give two shits what anyone thought. I looked like a fighter. I looked like I could survive.

Jensen looked even worse than I thought. He'd cried. He'd _cried! _Wow. I thought he'd have more pride than that. In his last days, Koby Jensen would be known as weak.

The Reaping's continued. Eight and Nine were pretty weak looking, I'd not have much trouble there. The guy from Ten, Jeffrey, looked quite the competitor with his muscles and tall stature. I'd have to watch out for him. Eleven were like Eight and Nine. So far there weren't any twelve year olds which I was really thankful for.

Claudius then butted in with his commentary, "Prepare for a shock, ladies and gents. A twist in the Games!"

I was actually quite curious. A woman with a ridiculous wig stood on stage. Oh my God. _Effie! _She was certainly a lot more colourful in real life. And Haymitch! He sat in the background, drunk as a skunk. Effie turned away from him, a look of distaste upon her painted face.

"Ladies first!" she smiled. She then called out a name. "Kya Blackworth."

A collective gasp circled the ground. The young woman started to cry quietly while holding her swollen belly.

"She's _pregnant!_" My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. Holy fucking _shit. _There was almost no way I was going to win, now. I covered my face and groaned without taking a closer look at her. All I'd seen was her impregnated womb before I decided I was done for. All the sponsors would be climbing over themselves to save the poor woman.

_Fuck this_.

I heard Effie gasp and mention how unfortunate it was. Well, clearly it wasn't so unfortunate that someone, I don't know, _volunteered _for her? This place was so fucked up.

Effie went to call the male tribute, "Jonathan Zachary!"

My head snapped up. A wail cried out in the crowd. No.. not the crowd. The stage. Kya had fallen to her knees and was staring at the man in horror. He stepped on stage with dignity and helped the woman to her feet, cradling her to his chest. My jaw dropped and my breathing came out in gasps, like I was hyperventilating. I trembled, sweat falling down my forehead onto my hands. This could not be happening. It just couldn't be.

"Are you okay?" asked Blight. I shook my head and clenched my fists as the woman cried on the man's shoulder. It was obvious. They were undoubtedly a couple. They were undoubtedly having a child together.

They were undoubtedly my parents.


	3. Chapter Three - Opening Ceremony

**Third chapter, my lovelies! Enjoy. This will not be a romance between the D1 boy and Faith. Just to let you guys know! Have fuun ~Tasha.**

* * *

_You haven't felt pain until you can't feel it anymore._

_Chapter Three_

* * *

My head felt as though it was bursting; bursting with pain and confusion and pure disbelief.

I didn't understand. Why were my parents here? Why were they so young? How did they get here? Questions ran through my mind like bullets, paralyzing my brain because I just didn't know.

"Faith?" Blight said, warm hand in my arm, jerking me awake. I shook it off. "What happened there? You just zoned out."

I laughed nervously, "They just, um, reminded me of some people back home. The resemblance is uncanny.."

"They look like you," remarked Martha. I shrugged. Wasn't she a brainbox?

"We could be distant relatives. You never know," I murmured, staring at the wall above the television.

Blight nodded slightly and jerked his head towards the rooms, "Martha and I are going to discuss our options, sponsoring and your angles. I'd prefer it if you both left, so we don't have to worry about.. offending you."

I nodded, still too dazed to really argue. I stumbled past and opened my door before I heard Jensen's timid voice call out.

"Good night, Faith," Shocked, I turned to reply but he was already gone.

Shrugging, I entered my room. I went for a shower to wash off the grime and sweat that lay sticky on my skin. I let the warm water wash away the the worries and stress and fear. I pretended I was back home, showering after a long day at school or work. I turned off the water and crept to my wardrobe. I peeled the clothes off and put on a nightgown.

On my wrist was a bracelet. I recognized it as one from my home, proper home, the one in Virginia. I touched it and smiled slightly, remembering the day Kate had given it to me. She had made it herself, the purple and blue threads weaving together to make a friendship bracelet.

I missed her. She was my best friend. I missed the way she'd snort when she laughed or ate like a pig. I missed her huge mass of curly black hair that tickled my nose when we hugged. I missed the way that she'd be that one friend who'd hold my hair back when I was sick and stick by me no matter what happened.

I wished I could have said goodbye to her like I'd said goodbye to Callie and Sarah. I wished I could have memorized her laugh one last time. Despite my reassurances that I _could _survive, it wasn't set in stone and even if I did make it out, I might not be able to see her again anyway.

And Mark.. oh, how I missed him too. I'd known him for a shorter amount of time than Kate but he was still my best friend. I loved them so much.

Oh God. I started to sob, hiccoughing sobs that racked my body and made my head feel like cotton was stuffed inside. Why was this happening to me? Had I done some terrible thing in a past life and I was being punished for it? Like kill someone or drown a puppy?

Why me?

Tears dripped down my face and stained the pillow. I was so going to die. And it wouldn't even be a good death, it'd be bloody and gory and completely undignified. I'd probably scream. I'd probably beg.

_I don't want to die_, I thought.

Somehow, despite the hysterics, I managed to fall into a dreamless sleep (for which, I was thankful for), oblivion happily settling into my head for a few short hours before I'd awaken to Hell. Or at least, Hell's equivalent.

* * *

"Up, up, up!" Feather-guy chirped, rattling on my door. "We're here! At the Capitol! Have a look outside. Oh, isn't it _wonderful_."

I jumped up, despite being quite tired, and raced to the window, hands splaying against the glass, nose squished to see the city outside. I agreed with him.

I had to admit, it was impressive. Lights shimmered and skyscrapers gleamed. Colourful people glided down the squeaky-clean streets to see the tributes from Seven. Us. Beside me, feather-guy continued to talk.

"Get dressed immediately, then you can have some breakfast. By then, we'll have stopped and the prep team will come to get you all prettied up!" I bit my lip. If the books were anything to go by, and they were, it was going to be a painfully uncomfortable experience.

I slipped on some cotton clothes and followed the scent-trail of food that beckoned me to eat it. Martha was eating a croissant and Blight some bacon. Jensen picked at his food, not really in the mood to eat anything.

Quickly, I filled my plate with a mountain of food and stuffed it in like I hadn't eaten in months. Bacon, waffles, cream, fried potatoes.. you name it, it was there. I guessed that was one of the good points of the Capitol; that even though they were sending me to my death, at least I was pampered in the few short days beforehand. It was sick in a twisted sort of way, but I wasn't complaining. The food wasn't exactly free, but whatever.

When I finished, the train stopped and Blight said, "There'll be cameras. Watch out, act neutral. They'll use _anything_ against you."

Feather-guy escorted us out of the silver, sleek bullet train. Cameras flashed in my face and I winced. I walked steadily to a car that awaited me, which took Jensen and I to the Remake Centre.

"Do whatever they tell you, however much it hurts," Martha said and I nodded.

"Hurts?" Squeaked Jensen. We ignored him. I didn't particularly dislike him, he was just a little annoying - constantly, well, _there._

Finally, we reached the Remake Centre and my prep team ushered me inside. They took me to a large clean room and bounced about happily, chattering about their lives and whatnot. I wasn't really interested until one of them, a young woman, pinched my ear.

I jumped and turned to her, glaring. She withered under my violent stare before demanding, "Take off your clothes."

I shrugged my clothes off and stood in the bare light. I wasn't that self conscious of my body, it was how it was and there was nothing, except plastic surgery, that could change it. I'd accepted myself for who I was; even if my body was a little plain.

"Oh, I hope you enjoy your outfit; we worked so hard on it," one remarked.

"Anyway," another said. "We'll get right on to it. Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit."

She lied, as I knew she had. I was scrubbed and polished, primped and shined. My skin was mauled to the point where it was red raw, hairless like a snake. They put my hair into a fancy updo and painted my nails a pale green colour. They soothed my aching skin with a strange lemon-scented gloop which made me sigh in pleasure.

It was painful and my skin hurt but I didn't scream once. It was extrememly irritating, however, and I was glad when they'd finished. It the end, I looked like a Barbie doll and I felt like one too, plucked to the point where I was barely human.

"The Stylist will see you now," a woman with bubblegum pink hair said. "She's the best there is!"

I shrugged, knowing that Cinna was undoubtedly the best, even if I'd never truly met him in person, "Okay."

I sat on the table and wrapped a robe around my shivering body. I'd never waxed myself before, and definitely not my entire body. Even my arms had been given the hair-free makeover.

A woman entered the room. She was tall, ranging in in at least 6 feet. Make up plastered her face and I noticed that her lips were too big to be natural. She held a hand to her hip.

"Take off the robe. My name is Harvey and I shall be your Stylist," Her accent was much stronger than a lot of other Capitolites. It made her voice seem weird; high and squeaky. I complied to her demand and let my only means of concealment drop to the floor.

"Hmm. You have muscle, unfortunately. And your chest is quite flat. I'm sure it'll be fine, though. We'll just hide it with your outfit," she frowned. She strutted out of the room and came back yet again, holding a black bag. She took a huge leafy mass from the bag and held it out in front of her.

"Arms up," she demanded. I raised them high and she let the outfit fall. It was quite itchy and very, very green.

"What even is this?" I questioned, stroking the plastic foliage.

"A tree," she said, looking at me as though I was the most stupid thing she'd ever encountered. I rolled my eyes as she narrowed hers. "Look into the mirror, child."

I did. I can honestly say it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. From my chest down was a long, brown and rough dress. My arms were sleeves made of synthetic leaves. I also had a huge headdress that covered the entirety of my head. It looked so stupid, I had the urge to rip the costume from my body.

"You like?"

"I hate, actually. You could've picked something more original," I said, remembering that nearly all of the Tribute Parade outfits had been trees. Harvey glared at me.

"Hmph. Your dinner is here," she said. And as an afterthough, she added, quite viciously, "I hope you die in the Arena, ungrateful worm."

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes briefly. I'd forgotten what this was all about. Death. Dying. I was going to die. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Dinner had been set on the table, steaming hot. I ate quickly, careful not to spill a drop and ruin Harvey's "masterpiece".

The door opened. Feather-guy entered with Martha. She gave me a once over before sneering in disgust.

"Time to go, Hope," she said, smirking. "Opening Ceremony; you don't want to be late."

"It's Faith," I glared. She ignored me.

We walked out into some sort of courtyard filled with horses and Chariots. I noticed Jensen next to our Chariot, stroking the horse. He looked as silly as I, if not more so considering his smaller stature.

Blight stood next to Martha and whispered a few words in her ear. She nodded and turned to Jensen and I.

"The Ceremony is beginning in a few moments. Remember to smile and wave. Make eye contact with as many people as possible, that'll insure more people will take a liking to you," she said, boredom flickering in her eyes.

"We know the.. Outfits aren't exactly appealing. This isn't the end all, be all. We still have the interviews and the Training with the Gamemakers to think of. Don't worry, we'll sort out sponsors," Blight said, giving us reassuring looks. A whistle blew. "Quick, get on your Chariots. It's starting soon."

I quickly climbed on before helping Jensen up. He looked at me gratefully.

"You nervous?" I murmured quietly.

"Yeah. This is all terrifying. I'm really scared," I smiled slightly.

"I know what you mean. If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd be here right here, right now, I'd probably have told them they were on crack," I sighed.

"Crack? What's that?" My eyes widened and I coughed.

"Sorry, it's slang for hallucination berries,"

"Oh. Okay. I know what you mean, though. I never thought I'd get picked for the Games," he said, looking like he was about to cry.

"Join the club."

I felt a jolt in the Chariot and realised it had started moving. I squeaked and felt the boy from One, Opal's, eyes burning through me. I met them with my own and glared back. He looked surprised before turning to the front again.

I heard the cheers and saw the lights before we'd even come into the circle. I felt almost blinded and deafened by it all. I gathered all my courage and smiled, waving at the colourful, bumbling idiots from the Capitol.

Some smiled back, some waved and some simply stared back with barely concealed confusion. I continued to look happy for the people I hated most and I realised with a start that it was almost over.

President Snow made a quick speech. He was old, Snow, with hair as white as his namesake and a stain on his tie that looked suspiciously like blood. His cold, snakelike eyes searched the crowd and as he smiled, cold chills ran down my spine.

He was terrifying. He radiated power like a god. I knew that I would hate to get onto his bad side, and that if I did, I probably wouldn't be breathing for much longer.

Our horses circled one more time and then we were off and driving to the Training Centre. I entered the elevator just before Jensen so he had to wait for the next lift up. Unfortunately, I had entered just in time to rise with Opal.

"Seven," he greeted, grinning. "What a pleasure to meet you."

Instantly, I was cautious. I couldn't trust him. I knew that. "One," I acknowledged. "Back at you."

"Enjoy the ride? I know you were a little.. nervous," he smirked, narrowing his eyes. He thought I was weak! _Let him, _a tiny voice in my head said. _Let him._

"And you weren't?"

He shrugged, "I wouldn't act so big, Seven. When it comes to the real thing, the Games, you'll be squashed like a bug."

I glared at him, spitting, "A bug? I'm more of a wolf actually. And you'll be the bug getting squashed."

Empty words, empty threats. He noticed this. Before I could even blink, he had me cornered at the elevator wall, arm against my throat and lips too near my ear. I gritted my teeth and growled slightly. How dare he?! I shivered in disgust. This man was too slimy, too dangerous. Too unpredictable.

"Oh, really, Seven? Watch your back in the Arena," The elevator dinged open. His stop. He threw me one last look of smugness over his shoulder and left, leaving me gobsmacked in his wake.

I wiped my cheek. He had spat on it - disgusting. I felt my throat and winced. It was a bit sore and I hoped it wouldn't bruise. I slapped my hand on the button for the seventh floor and bit my lip.

I had just made one of the biggest threats in the Arena my enemy. _Great._ Fan-fucking-tastic. I'd made such a big mistake.

I finally made it to my floor, where Martha and Blight were waiting.

"Your room is there," Martha said, pointing to the room on her right. "You have a big day tomorrow. Get some sleep."

I opened the door and slid down the door, sighing. My ears rang as I got used to the silence. _Peace at last._

I tore off my costume and jumped into the shower. Make up rained to the drain and slid down like sleek, emerald green slugs. I pressed so many buttons that I smelled like a floral shop and got out, automatic dryers making me soft and luscious within seconds.

I slid into a nightgown and sighed in relief, eyes fluttering closed. I walked over to the large mirror on the dressing table to inspect my reflection.

Medium length, dark brown hair fell next to my pale cheeks that were currently painted a slight rosy colour. I had too-wide dark green eyes that hid a sadness within, but lit with mischief and laughter most of the time. My lips were small, cracked and dry. I ran my tongue over them and hissed in pain. I ran my hands over my nose, slightly upturned and narrow.

My chin was too small, my eyes too large and my cheeks too pale to be considered beautiful. I was.. plain. I wasn't ugly. I didn't have eye catching, beautiful features like the girls from One or Two. I didn't have full lips or luxurious hair that fell in pretty ringlets. I was simply a girl, a girl with a hidden temper and a big mouth.

I touched the faint pink ring that circled my neck. It looked like it was fading. I crossed my fingers.

It was strange to think that in a week, I might not be there. I hoped that I would survive. I clung to that hope with every fibre of my being. Doubts crept into my mind but I repressed them. I wanted to survive. I _needed _to.

The odds were terrible. Twenty-three to one? Chances were, I'd die. I withheld my tears; I'd already let enough fall. I was going into the Games whether I liked it or not. Crying wasn't going to make it better. I would fight as hard as I could, and bring as many people as I could down with me.

And then there was the matter of my parents. _Should I let them die or make them win?_ Something in my gut told me to let it play out, see what happened. I hoped it would work out.

Finally, I climbed into my soft bed before letting exhaustion take over. Tomorrow, I'd learn important things, different areas of survival that would help me in the Games. Tomorrow, I'd take note of everybody's skills and weaknesses. Tomorrow, I'd make sure I knew my competition.

In a few weeks' time, only one person out of our twenty-four would be alive. I had to make sure I had a good chance it was me.

It was time to play the Game.


End file.
